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Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Bodily functions & chaos.

Some days the chaos around this house is enough to make me want to yell "Cut!" because I'm sure I'm on a sitcom set.  Or as my nerdy engineer husband and his nerdy engineer friends say, makes me want to hit Control-Z and undo what happened last.  Yes, they're giant nerds.

Last week we awoke to find dog poop on the family room rug.  It had been storming the night before and the dogs didn't want to go outside and someone must have decided that the family room rug was a suitable place to defecate.  Brian cleaned it up and while I made the morning "snack" bottles and we fed the boys together.  Brian got ready and left for work as I emptied the dishwasher and got the boys breakfast ready.  When I walked back into the family room to get the twins, I found Beckett happily playing with a turd with smears of poop all over his face, hands, and even his feet.  I thought I was going to vomit right there on the spot. I pulled myself together, bathed Mr. Beckett, and sent an angry text to the husband about his inability to get all the turds.

Later, while I was preparing lunch for the boys, Brennan announced that he had to go pee-pee and that he would go by himself.  He's usually very good at emptying his potty chair into the toilet, flushing, and closing the door behind him, so I wasn't in a huge hurry to go check on him.  He came out to tell me that he was done and I headed into the bathroom to survey the situation.  Who did I find?  None other than Kiernan, covered in his big brother's urine and splashing in the puddle of it on the floor, the potty chair tipped over next to him.  Cue gag reflex again.  This time it was Kiernan's turn for a bath and a mental "angry text" to myself to never again trust a 2.5 year old to close the door behind him when the babies are on the loose.

Brennan did something crazy that evening while I was making dinner to round out the day of chaos, but my brain was so fried by then that I cannot even remember what it was.

I'm not sure what the moral of the story is supposed to be.  Maybe it's that I shouldn't prepare meals for my children anymore?  That would probably be frowned upon though, huh?

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